Many the Miles
by Feistee
Summary: Booth and Brennan relax after completing an out-of-state investigation.


**Many the Miles**

**A/N** **- A quick one-shot, post "Santa in the Slush". Set in summer.**

--

Even in the evening, the heat in the outskirts of Charleston is stifling and it warps the air as the sunlight frays through the boughs of the tall oaks and palmettos. They walk down a slope and the rubble becomes scarce beneath their feet as sand invades the terrain. She glances at Booth, who is whistling contentedly a few paces ahead of her, swinging the hemp basket in his hand to some unheard beat.

A strong but welcome wind rushes past them, heavy and fresh with the scent of sea salt. As they round a growth of tall fescue, she sees it, an endless expanse of blue against a blushing sky. For a moment, her breath is stolen by the scene.

He has turned around to wait for her near a worn old boardwalk that leads across the first dunes and his face breaks into a smile upon seeing her reaction. He sets the basket on the wooden handrail to roll up his sleeves, revealing arms that have become darker under the unrelenting South Carolina sun.

"You coming?" he asks gently.

She nods and they walk together across the planks that creak with protest under each of their footfalls.

"Beautiful, isn't it, Bones?"

"We're here because of a murder investigation," she reminds him.

He plucks a peach out of his basket, throwing it in the air and catching it. "We _were_ here because of that. It's been put to rest, thanks to you. Now we're here to enjoy the view."

Unexpectedly, she seems to accept his reasoning, so he runs his thumb over the peach's fuzzy skin. They are alone this strip of the beach, but to the west she can see a resort in the shape of an old governor's mansion. There, the white sand is littered with oversized umbrellas and picnic tables and couples lounging on blankets. But it is so far away that all she hears is the rush of the waves, and then, a relaxed sigh escaping Booth's lips.

She crosses her arms and looks across the ocean where tiny schooners dot the horizon and another wind picks up, brushing past her bare legs and skirt. As she tucks back a stray lock of hair that has tumbled out of her ponytail, she turns to catch him staring. This is not the first time he has watched her like this, but it is the first time he does not avert his gaze once she sees. They have been dancing around something since Christmas, when Caroline's innocent need for amusement turned into so much more.

The emotional complications that lie between them are vast. He is afraid the grounds of this relationship he tries so hard to protect will fall from beneath his feet if he makes a wrong move. But that doesn't stop him from wondering how it would feel to close the distance.

And she also wonders: what would it mean to experience true intimacy with her partner? She knows that their fleeting physical encounter beneath the mistletoe should not affect her so much, but it has, and this excites and frightens her.

His eyes are dark and sparkling as they sweep over her face and she feels her lips quirk into a smile as she slides her feet out of her sandals. Everything is cooling in the evening air as she flexes her toes around the shifting sands, but when she meets his eyes again, his expression is brimming with so much affection that it warms her heart.

She almost chuckles at her inane sentiments, but instead, gestures to the peach that he is still turning listlessly in his hand. "What's taking you so long? I thought you said it was farmer fresh".

"Sure is, Miz Temperance." His impression of a southern accent is laughable and a direct jibe at the city's coroner, who had insisted on calling her that all through their visit. Though she does not mind the name, he has found it immensely amusing.

She rolls her eyes as she turns fully to face him. When he brings it to his mouth, the fruit looks soft and ripe but incredibly small in his hand. He takes a bite, and when he drops his hand back down, his lips are glistening. He motions with the same hand between her and the basket.

"And now, as a true southern gentleman, I'm going to offer you some." He swallows, causing his Adam's apple to work against his throat.

She tips her head to the side, letting her eyes run along the length of his arm as he prepares to take another bite. She sees the most curious line of juice that has dribbled from the peach down his wrist, but he has not seemed to notice, so when she places a hand on his shoulder, he quirks a brow at the interruption. That feeling is back; the same irrational curiosity that prompted her to concede to Caroline's request with very little resistance, and it is louder and more insistent than ever.

"You can have your own," he begins, bemused.

"I know," she responds simply, letting her fingers run down his forearm and finally stop to grasp and steady his hand.

"Bones…" he falters as she dips her head and closes her eyes and all he can feel is the warmth of her tongue against his skin, burning a trail down his wrist.

Her mouth closes over the Kanji tattoo and her eyes flutter open again, locking with his. Those familiar grey-blues that have always been infallibly lucid and clinical are glazed over and dark as her tongue darts out once more to catch the last bead of juice that has fallen. She pulls back slowly but keeps her fingers tangled with his.

He finally manages to draw in a breath but when he sees her looking at him, eyes wide and questioning, the air rushes out of his lungs again. She runs her tongue along her bottom lip expectantly and he almost groans as his crotch tightens.

"Booth?" Her voice is laced with uncertainty.

Knowing he must act quickly, before she can begin rationalizing and ultimately question her actions, his fingers curl against her jaw to coax her chin up. He leans down to press his lips against hers so suddenly that she gasps against his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to swirl his tongue against hers. His mouth is still sticky from the fruit and his lips are tangy and sweet as she runs her tongue across them. Then when she shivers, it is not because of the cool dusk air.

As his tongue delves deeper into her mouth, he is desperate to taste everything she has to offer; she has been a partner, a friend, a confidant, and the reason he still pushes forward in this life filled with death and loss and murder. And now she is becoming so much more. For a dizzying moment, he thinks he may get lost and drown in all that is Temperance Brennan, and then he realizes he has wanted that since the day he met her.

"Oh, God, Temperance…"

He pulls his mouth away from hers and presses his lips against the skin of her neck. Her fingers have sunk into his hair as she encourages him closer and she whimpers softly when his tongue traces her clavicle.

Gently, his fingertips brush the undersides of her breasts and she shifts away from him slightly, allowing him access to her body. When his thumbs graze her nipples through the thin layers of her shirt and bra, she gasps, tugging at his hair impatiently to force his mouth down against hers again.

She boldly dips her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and he almost jumps back in surprise. He grabs her hand and squeezes it, assuring her that what they have done has not been a mistake. His breathing is coming out short and ragged as he rests his forehead against hers, willing the frantic beating of his heart to stop and allow him a moment to regain his thoughts.

"What's wrong?" Her voice is thick with arousal and this only serves in fueling his.

"We should get back to the hotel."

His intentions are not lost on her as his eyes rake over her body once more. Her face is flushed and her lips are red from his ministrations. He again feels a familiar warmth pooling in his core.

"I don't know. I kind of like it here." She gets her feet back into the sandals anyway while he bends down to scoop up the basket from the sand.

"You do?"

"And it _is_ beautiful."

But she is suddenly eager to leave, and grasps his hand, leading them back towards the boardwalk.

"I'll say it again, Bones. Murder may have brought us to this place," he whispers as they meander back towards the rocky ridge. "But something else is keeping us here."

As the sounds of the ocean recede behind them, they both know exactly what that reason is.

**End**


End file.
